


Little Questions

by Wolfepup



Series: Balance [1]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Light Swearing, Real Life Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfepup/pseuds/Wolfepup
Summary: It was midterms. It was a Bad Day at work. And Skrael was on her doorstep. Claire did. Not. Have. Time. For. This.
Relationships: None
Series: Balance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984592
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Little Questions

**Author's Note:**

> This story ended up with more Arcane Order and Claire than I had originally intended, but it was super fun digging into my “Go to College and Work Part time” history. Ye gods, that SUCKED.  
> This story also assumes that the Arcane Order were still stuck in a time loop. A new one, but deeper since Douxie and Nari had more time to work on it. They came back to Arcadia, set up the trap, caught the AO, but hid away again to find a more permanent solution. Could be a fun story to write.  
> Note on the Title, “Little Questions” is my headcannon on how scientists ask questions. They start with asking about big things, “Big Questions”, such as “Why is the sky blue?”. After that are questions about smaller and smaller aspects of the big thing, like “Does the percentage of ground-level ozone affect the blue of the sky in urban areas?”. The questions themselves become these long, unwieldy things, but they are looking at a smaller and smaller bits, even though it can still have a huge effect. I call these “Little Questions”.

What a day. What a horrible, terrible, waste of time, day. Claire slammed her car door shut, a used, dented, cheap little Mazda. Her mother hated it, but Claire loved it. It was reliable, and she could afford the payments. And she only got a warning from the police officer to fix her broken taillight. _Wonderful._ She paused, one hand on the roof, breathing deeply to calm her raging anger.

To supplement her financial aid, and to prove to her mother that she could do it, Claire had taken a part-time job in the college bookstore. At the small community college, students tended to do their own book and supply shopping. Usually, they wandered about with dazed expressions on their faces and a list—on a random piece of paper or a cellphone with a cracked screen—in one hand. The usual customers were rarely ever a problem; a few kind words and some guidance to a website where they could buy the book cheaper often made someone’s day.

But sometimes, usually around the end of Summer Quarter or the start of the Fall Quarter, an Entitled Parent would do the shopping. Mostly their kids were kicked out of the more prestigious schools, likely due to partying and slacking off, and the local community college was the only option left for a “higher education”. How Claire hated _those people._ The nerve, staring down on her, her co-workers, and her customers as if they were a lower lifeform, making unreasonable demands. She shuddered—her mother was one of _those people,_ and she had quickly and _swiftly_ disavowed her of that line of behavior, letting her mother know that such actions were _not acceptable_ at any level of society.

Claire had no fear of facing down Merlin or Morgana, or any massive troll, and this experience transferred nicely to dealing with her overbearing mother.

The Karen had demanded that she price match a new and very expensive book in their stock with a used book on Amazon. Was Karen that stupid? Claire didn’t set the prices in the college bookstore, what, should she just wave her hand and magically make the manager (who was in the restroom, of all places!) appear? Should she just twirl her magic wand, not that she had one yet, and make some missing price tag appear out of thin air? She was a wizard, not a miracle worker! The nerve. The Karen had to be escorted out of the bookstore by security, with a stern warning that she would be charged with trespassing if she ever set foot on campus again. Claire almost—almost—felt bad for her kid.

Add to that, the stress of Fall Quarter midterms. A math class, a chemistry class, and a language class on Latin. Douxie (via videoconference and phone calls, and the occasional Shadow Portal, since he was living in New York City at the moment) and Zoe were amazingly good at chemistry. Being wizards and all, reactions were kind of their thing. Douxie’s ability to adapt to new concepts never ceased to amaze her, unlike most Really Old people Claire had met, he was constantly learning. More than once he had told her that the most important thing he had ever learned was to never stop learning. It was one of the things that made a very long life bearable.

She leaned her back against the car. A long….long life was something she was not looking forward to, but Zoe, Archie, and Douxie had strategies that she was starting to employ. Learn, live in the moment, and connect with others who are also long-lived. She was just beginning to learn how large and complex the Magical Community was. It would be years before she formed the connections her friends had with that network, and she was fine with that. She had time.

Archie was a great help with the Latin class. Math…she threw open her trunk. Oh gods…math. She pulled her backpack out of the trunk, grabbing a sheaf of stapled-together papers that she had printed before heading home. Uhg, college math—even community college math!—made high school math look like _nothing_. Douxie and Zoe can help, but Krel was practically bouncing on his toes when she was ready to advanced into the higher maths. She shuddered, not about Krel’s untested ability as a tutor, but at Trig and Calculus. Uhg.

She glared at the papers in her hand, her chemistry homework. “ _Pick one article and describe why it is important.”_ She hissed under her breath. The sheaf had four randomly selected articles printed from _Science._ Uhg. She had skimmed the top one on the stack. How many five or six syllable words do they need to use? Was it some kind of requirement to make the author sound smarter? She slammed her trunk. At least she could ask Archie to help translate Latin. Science-speak, not so much. Uhg, just _uhg._

A cold breeze wafted by. Odd. It was a warm, gentle day in early October. Claire did not have time for this. She did not have time for a sudden change in the weather and the runny nose that it always brought. Her hand tightened around the sheaf of papers. A small, delicate snowflake floated by. She did _not_ have time for this bullshit.

She glared at the stoop. Skrael, thin and pale, garbed in an old skull and tattered cape, whispered out from behind a column. _She did not have time for this._

Claire could feel her heart thudding in her chest, the warmth blooming in her limbs as her adrenaline surged. Her eyes narrowed. Her magic swirled just under her skin, itching for angry release.

The world grew quiet, and Skrael spoke, his voice soft and gravely. “Human…you will—”

“I WILL DO NOTHING!” She stomped up to him, smacking him into silence with the sheaf of papers. Her magic growled in her voice. “I have three midterms to study for, three customers,” she held up three fingers, “THREE customers and ONE manager to NOT KILL, and-and,” She threw her head back. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

Skrael staggered back a step at her tirade. “Uhm…uh…”

She should be terrified. She should be shaking in fear. She should be running and calling every wizard she knew to come to her aid. But…rage coursed through her. Her magic swirled, a slight breeze tinted purple and black shifted around her.

“Fine,” her growling voice barely above a whisper, increased in volume as she continued to speak, “I’ll tell you. You’re here to find Nari, but can’t. So you look for Douxie, but you can’t find him either. So you start here,” she glared at him, and Skrael backed up against the column. “But. I. Just. Don’t. Have. Time. For. You.” She hissed out each word, stalking forward until she was in his face, adrenaline surging. Not here, she couldn’t fight here, not with her little brother nearby. Time to do the unexpected, and face this pain head-on. No tricks, like what Douxie would do. No careful scheming and planning like Merlin. She took a deep breath. Skrael was not human—he was ancient, and prone to stagnation. He should be used to always using his power to get what he wants, and not being confronted by who he thought was weak. Rather like the Last Unicorn facing the Red Bull, she thought. She released her breath, “You want to end humanity? AGAIN? Hmm? TELL ME?”

Skrael nodded wordlessly.

Claire stepped back, snorting. “Figures.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Partly to hide her shaking, she was not sure if it was fear or anger, partly not to throttle the demi-god. The wind of her wild magic calmed a bit. “Why?” The word was not a question, but a demand, an order that _must_ be obeyed. It was one of the best things she learned from her mom, from sitting in on city council meetings.

“They,” Skrael’s voice was soft, his gaze on her shoes. “They ruin this world, throw it out of balance.”

“No shit.”

Skrael looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise.

“Humans have a history of destroying what they don’t understand.” A deep breath, one hand on her forehead. She won’t kill him, she won’t kill him. Not too long ago, she was one of those humans. But then she met and fell in love with a Trollhunter, and was thrust into a world of magic, semi-immortal wizards, trolls, and aliens. Not to mention her own membership into wizard-dom. “Look, I get it, you’re an immortal demigod, all the power of the world at your fingertips. You think you know all you need to know.” She scoffed. “You. Are. So. Lazy!” She balled her hands into fists. “You never bother to learn anything new! Have you ever _asked_ anyone anything?!?!?!”

Skrael gulped and shook his head once. Douxie had warned her that beings like the Arcane Order, those who saw themselves as better than any others, only saw humans as they first learned of them—not what they are like thousands of years later. This confirmed that hypothesis. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, now she knew why her mother was prone to the motion.

“I thought so,” she growled out. “Humans have to fight for all of their knowledge! Magic in humans is _rare!_ They can’t use magic, or intuition, or time or whatever to help them. They have to focus on one thing,” a finger in his face, “ONE THING and study it TO DEATH.” She took a quick step back. “They have to fight for their knowledge, for every scrap.”

He stammered.

Claire thrust the sheaf of papers at him, Skrael held them to his chest with one hand, startled. “Here, my homework. READ IT.” She tapped the top article with her finger. “It has an article about tires. _One chemical_ , and not even _a chemical added to the tires,_ but the chemical that’s _created_ when the first one reacts with ozone?! How’d they find that out? HOW!? HOW?!? Sure as _fuck_ not intuition!” Skrael glanced down at the paper. Claire could see the gears starting to turn in his ancient head. “YEARS OF STUDY IN ONE DAMN SUBJECT, _that’s how!_ ” She pulled the papers from him, tapping on them. “And the YEARS of EXPERIENCE that all these other people who helped them have! Humans don’t live long, they have to work together to LEARN ANYTHING! Something you,” stab in chest with papers, Skrael grabbed them again, “need to learn! Humans are _trying_ , as much as they can, and they don’t need _you_ as an enemy! They are enough of their OWN enemy!”

She took a deep breath and quieted a bit. Her magic still seethed just beneath her skin. “They need _you_ to not get in their way. They need to learn. One. Chemical. One. Effect. One…Thing. At. A. time. Or they won’t learn at all.” Claire stalked off, not caring that she turned her back to an immortal demigod.

She slammed the door in his face. Three steps into her home, one bag tossed angrily onto the couch…oh great, she left her papers with Skrael. Oh gods…what had she done? She had just screamed and yelled at Skrael…Skrael of The North Wind, one of the Arcane Order. Oh no…she had to call Douxie right now to let him know, to warn him. Her hand hovered over her cell; she couldn’t risk Skrael overhearing her. Her hand started to shake as the realization of what had _just_ happened occurred to her. Skrael was on her porch. With her homework. She needed those papers—she had to get them back. She paused, cellphone in one hand, her other hand hovering over the doorknob. Her heart thudded in her chest. She had to pass that chemistry class, otherwise she would have left the papers with the demigod and written them off. She couldn’t risk losing her financial aid.

Claire chewed on her bottom lip, and grabbed onto the doorknob.

The fact that she still _had_ a door was not lost on her. The wards that she, Douxie, and Zoe placed on the door would only slow down a member of the Arcane Order. But…the door and its wards was still intact. No one was hammering on it, either magically or otherwise.

There was no cold air wafting in from under the door. No frost, no sign that Skrael was still here other than a cold bite to air that had followed her in. Maybe he left? That would not be good, he could be going after another one of her friends. But the air _was_ still cold, maybe he was still there? She really needed those papers.

She slowly opened the door, and was not prepared for what she saw. Skrael had sat on the porch swing, gazing at the papers, brow furrowed. Claire cleared her throat. “I-I need those.”

Skrael looked up at her. His eyes flashed from her face to her open hand, then back to the papers. His voice was strangely soft, and if Claire didn’t know any better, tinted with the faintest hint of fear. No way. There was _no way_ that _Skrael of the North Wind_ could possible be afraid of her! But…his shoulders were hunched ever so slightly, the papers resting in his thin, pale hands. “I was doing what you told me to. Reading. There are…a lot of large words.”

Claire sagged against the doorframe; she couldn’t help the smile on her face, even past the rapid beating of her heart. “Yes…yes there are.” She held up a hand. “Wait here.” Something was different about him; if he was willing to behave, then Claire would be willing to work with him. Maybe…just maybe they wouldn’t _have_ to fight the Arcane Order? She could live with that; a few less demolished buildings would be nice, for a change.

Her room was tidy, with a pile of textbooks next to her desk. An old, battered chemistry textbook, gifted to her by Eli in case it would be useful in her classes, was on top. She took it downstairs, adding a notebook and pencils and pens. “Here,” she handed them to Skrael. “Learn the basics. When I am done with those,” she motioned to the crinkled sheaf of papers, “I will hand them back to you, okay?”

Skrael nodded, eagerly trading. This woman was not one he wanted to anger again. She will be very formidable when she grows into her power.

**

The escape from the time loop had left Skrael tired and weak, but he wasn’t about to show the humans that. The girl wizard, Claire, never gave him the chance. No being had ever stood up to him before. Not Nari when she abandoned the Order, not Merlin, no one. And never that…vehemently.

Bellroc had been forced to stay behind, there was only enough power between the two of them to free one. With the onset of winter, they had decided to send Skrael. He was to locate Nari, keep an eye on her while Bellroc gathered their strength.

This book—far less confusing than the papers but still confounding—had seen many years of use. Passages were highlighted in a rainbow of pale colors. The pages were worn, handwriting of at least two different styles filled the margins. Scribbled notes and explanations to supplement the text.

Claire returned with most of the papers, having selected one of the papers to read for herself, and a couple of more equally worn texts. Their spines, creased with use, denoted “Biology” and “Geology”.

She placed them on the small table on the porch, easily within reach. “I have more, but these are the introductory texts.” The papers were placed on top of the pile.

Skrael looked at the books. They were…thicker than expected. They reminded him of well-worn wizard texts, complete with arcane symbols and wrinkled pages stained with substances unknown.

“Thank you,” Skrael was careful to not raise her ire. She may be weak in magic. But she was strong in spirit. Not only was she the first human who had stood up to him, she was also the first human who wanted him to _understand._ He had spent the last 900 years before being banished only hunting Nari; he and Bellroc had largely left the world to their own devices. Streetlights started to come on, illuminating the world with pools of soft gold. He looked out at the street; a car drove by, minding its own business on some mindless task. The human in the front seat bobbed its head to some unheard music before passing out of sight. Humans accomplished so much while he was not looking. They had done so much damage.

But she was right; Skrael had seen it time and time again that humans—not only humans, trolls and other fae as well—were terrified of what they did not understand. And beings tended to either hide from, subjugate, or destroy what they feared. Sadly, humans, with their short lives that burned with passion, tended to choose the latter.

He gazed down at the paper on the top of the pile. A large block of text was just below the long, wordy title. Looks like they had added some very long words to the language since he last paid attention to it. He picked it up and stared at it closer. The block of text was names. Name after name after name…27 names in all. 27 people, all working together to answer one strangely specific question. The Arcane Order, even at its full strength, rarely collaborated that well with just three members. How did these humans do it?

**

“Hello?” Councilwoman Nunez walked up to her front door. There was a strange pale man wearing a skull and a long, thin cape on her porch, reading one of Claire’s textbooks, surrounded by notes, illuminated by the yellow glow of her porchlight.

“Hello.” The strange man bowed over the book. This had to be another one of Claire’s odd friends. She set her hands on her hips.

“And you are…”

“Skrael, of the North Wind.” He bowed again, an incline of his chin, motioning to the piles of papers around him. “Lady Claire tasked me with this…most important research. But, I confess. Some of these words are…”

“Incomprehensible,” Councilwoman Nunez glanced at the books and smiled. “I will bring you a dictionary.” Claire would complain endlessly about the complex way in which the authors of those books explained the world. Just wait until she had to read legal documents.

“Dictionary?”

She rolled her eyes, whatever were they teaching kids these days? “Stay here.”

The dictionary was were she left it, covered in dust in a forgotten corner of the bookcase. She handed it to him. Skrael opened it up, his face brightening! “Ah, yes, thank you very much.” At least he was polite. “A book that explains…most? Of these strange and foreign words!” He held it to his chest, and smiled widely. He bowed, still holding the book.

She waved her hand at him. Such strange friends her daughter had. “Just knock on the door when you are done with it.” He nodded.

**

These humans, they always were a curious bunch. They poked and prodded throughout history, but their tools had never been adequate enough to satiate their wonder. They filled the gaps in their knowledge with stories and fear.

Skrael had never noticed that gap closing until now. Until a brave young wizard had stood up to him and handed him crumpled sheafs of paper and well-loved books. Humans had always asked questions, but they were now learning to ask the right questions. They were more and more focused, examining tinier and tinier aspects of the world, struggling to understand their place and how everything fit together. Not just explaining the world, but understanding it fundamentally as well.

As for magic, Lady Claire was correct, very very few of these humans had magic. Skrael had never considered how _rare_ that trait is in humans. They lacked the mystic power’s insight. They had to make do with what that could _touch_ and _measure_ and _see._

Months passed. Not only was there so sign of Nari or her guardian Wizard in Arcadia; Skrael had never bothered to look. He did keep an eye out, while he sat in on lectures, hidden in shadows. He observed chemistry labs, children at the park flipping over rocks and exclaiming in delight at what crawled out. He saw the cruelty of children smashing bugs, but he saw other children stopping them, rescuing spiders and other creatures from certain doom.

There was a sort of dichotomy to it all. A strange push and pull of destruction and creation.

He read more. He read everything. It would take his entire life to absorb all of the knowledge that the humans were producing. The might of their combined curiosity was astounding, now that their technology was catching up to them. How much further will they go? He saw the battles humans now fought, the people fighting for their right to be heard. For the right to be understood. Fighting against ignorance and misinformation and…fear. Fear of change.

Change took time. Each generation passed a small lesson to the one after it. And these lessons compounded. The world was growing up.

Far to the north of Arcadia, he sat in the shadow of a young volcano, its peak long gone; a gaping wound that cradled a glacier. Behind him was a scrubby tree, the tallest plant at the edge of a pumice field, cut deeply by a meandering stream of melted glacial water. He quietly observed a group of humans poking and prodding, sampling, sorting, drawing, measuring. He could hear their voices, carried on the wind dusted with volcanic ash. He didn’t understand much of what they talked about. He lacked Nari’s ability to sense the human’s auras, but he could sense their light touch on the land that was so recently coated in snow. They only affected what they needed to in order to understand; and they admonished those who broke the rules that protected this wild and fragile place.

“ _What is taking so long?”_ Bellroc’s voice was distant. “ _Have you found the Wizard or Nari yet?”_

Skrael looked down at the group of humans, shaking the samples they had pried from the small, ashy gully through a series of brass rings with screens at the bottoms. “ _I have found something more important.”_

 _“What?”_ Bellroc was impatient, their mental voice growling.

“ _Those who care. Those who strive to understand the world around them.”_

Bellroc scoffed, a quick mental stab.

Skrael continued. “ _The humans have changed, Bellroc. They are striving to understand this world they have destroyed.”_

_“They will never change!”_

He shook his head. One of the humans in the small gully laughed, dunking their head in the tiny meltwater stream. _“I have learned that Change is the only things humans_ can _do.”_

 _“What?”_ The anger was gone, and confusion and disbelief filled Bellroc’s mental voice. Only on this volcano, the most restless of five in this young mountain chain, was there magic enough for Skrael to hear them. The voice returned, growling. “ _You have seen the destruction they have cause—”_

Skrael now understood Claire, all those months ago. He rolled his eyes. “ _You see what you want to see. I used to as well. Now I see...differently.”_ More laughter from the humans below. One hefted a large pumice stone in their hand. “ _They’re learning. They are fighting. And…”_

One of the humans sat in the shadows of a boulder. This one was darker of skin than the others, eyes so dark to be almost black, hair the color of the night sky. They stared up at the mountain. Their fellow humans sat around them, resting in the heat of the summer sun. The dark human’s voice rang out, a practiced storyteller. Skrael had listened to their stories in the dark at their nightly camp. _“They tell stories of Magic, Bellroc. And they tell them without fear or hate.”_

He missed the first few sentences, carried away on the wind, but he passed the tale, ancient to the humans, recent to them, along. “ _The Great Spirit, Tyhee Saghalie, whose home is in the sun, gave them all they needed. No one was hungry, no one was cold_ … _”_

**

Pow wows and private, whispered rituals. Swirling skirts and meadows full of laughter. Magical beings, small and wary, skirted the edges of Human life, their powers tied to the world. These small places of magic, not Skrael’s magic, not Bellroc’s, not Nari’s, not even the human wizard and witches, but magic none the less, were protected, guarded. Restored. Renewed. Resurrected. Not perfectly, no resurrected being or place can ever truly be returned to what it was, but close.

Skrael begin to see the magic as _humans_ saw it. The interconnection of all things, of the smallest atom to the largest star, and how they all affected each other. He would frequently flit up to the top of volcanoes to confer with Bellroc. To pass along the stories and lessons. He spoke of the minute bonds that held the world together, the massive forces that kept the planets in check.

It took a while. Bellroc was stubborn.

But it didn’t take as long as Skrael thought.

Bellroc stood at the edge of the crater in a place the humans called Hawai’i. The open vents of Kīlauea roiled under their feet. Skrael staggered next to them, drained of magic. He hoped Bellroc could sense the difference in his magic, lighter, freer from hate. It came to him easily. It was not completely free, but now he could feel the soft whispers of snow and the cool caress of ice in his magic. Something he had not felt in centuries. Something he had not felt since before Arthur had declared war on magic-kind. He had not realized how badly his hate had cut himself off from his own power.

Bellroc’s gaze passed from the volcano to him. Maybe they had sensed the difference? Skrael was able to bring Bellroc to this plane without their help, after all. And in an area where his power should be at its weakest. He held his hand up, a single, perfect snowflake floating above his palm, surrounded by the superheated, wavering air of the volcano. It glowed a soft, pure white. His magic hadn’t glowed for eons, not since the fall of Camelot.

“How?” Bellroc’s word asked volumes. How indeed?

“I have some papers for you to read, old friend.”

**

Just over a year had passed, and winter had come to Arcadia. No snow, not this far south, but far warmer than New York had been. The air was crisp and cool, but warm enough to allow Douxie to walk with just his hoodie.

He laughed, catching Claire as she jumped into his arms. “I missed you, Teach!”

Douxie set her down, leaving one hand on her shoulder. “Me too, Lady Claire!”

Archie purred, wrapping around their legs. “Air I can breathe!” He hopped up into Nari’s arms, “Clean air Nari!”

She laughed, “I know!”

Claire sobered, “Something happened.”

Oh no. Whenever someone in Arcadia said that bad things were about to happen. Except…this was past tense. Oh no, his stomach fell. Who died?

“Skrael showed up.”

Douxie looked around. The town was intact. He, Archie, and Nari had not heard of anything disastrous happening. Zoe would have told him. He cursed himself, he should have visited more! “Is everyone okay?”

She smiled behind her hand. “I-I kinda told him off. He uh…caught me on a _really_ bad day.”

Douxie had seen her _really_ bad days. He held her out at arm’s length to look her over. She looked…fine. Hair a bit longer. White streak in her hair a bit wider. But, alive and whole. She laughed again, twisting out of his grasp.

Claire laughed. “Your face!” Douxie let go with a huff. She continued to laugh, hands on her knees. “I have been keeping it a secret—not telling you to better protect Nari. As long as he behaved,” she stood up fully, and shrugged. “And, well, he did. I…uh..”

Douxie placed his hands on his hips. “You could have been hurt, Claire!”

She looked to one side. “I know, but…”

He smiled, “Don’t you ‘But Master’ me!”

“Heh,” Claire cleared her throat, “Hear me out; I made him read my chemistry homework. Then he sat in on some classes,” she shrugged. “He was…a strangely good study partner. Asked some really interesting questions.” Douxie’s mouth fell open, Nari giggled behind a small hand. _WHAT?_ “Took him to a couple of ren faires, he followed a classmate to some fieldwork,” she shrugged again, “He wanted to learn. So, I didn’t stop him. After the field work last summer, haven’t heard anything until last week, when I called you.”

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck. What was going on? Skrael being…cooperative. What was next, Bellroc apologizing?

“How long, exactly, has this been going on?”

“Hmmm…a little over a year, I think.”

“A YEAR?” Douxie took a quick step back. A _year_. Claire, his apprentice, someone he _trusted_ had kept Skrael’s presence in Arcadia a secret for a _year_? Why?

Nari rocked back on her heels, hands clasped behind her back. Her face was lit up with a huge smile. Douxie did not doubt that she could sense the sudden spike of his emotion. But…come to think of it, the little sprite had been more relaxed as of late. When they first moved to New York, she would start at every shadow and shy from every quick motion. But…about a year ago, that had changed. She smiled more, her plants grew faster and bloomed longer.

Claire half turned and faced a tree behind her. “I think it’s safe now.”

Safe now? Claire faced Douxie. With a wink, she said, “I had to short circuit you enough so you would hear them out instead of attacking on sight, y’know?”

He…he couldn’t fault her logic there. Behind Claire, Skrael walked out from behind a tree and stood in its shade. Bellroc followed, but left the shadow to stand in the sun. They held onto the Genesis Seal.

Bellroc looked down at it, then held it out with one hand, shaking it.

“Take it,” Claire hissed out of the side of her mouth.

Douxie numbly walked over to Bellroc. This had to be a trap. Every nerve in his body screamed. But Nari smiled. Claire was relaxed. What was going on? Bellroc thrust the Seal into his hands. “Don’t lose it,” they growled. They spun on one heel and walked away, stopping when Skrael didn’t follow.

Nari stepped up to Douxie and placed a hand on his arm. She closed her eyes, reaching one hand out to them. Her smile grew wider. “I had been afraid to sense their auras fully. I knew something had changed, though. They are…different.” She looked up at Douxie. “Lighter.” She looked to them. “It is time, I think, to visit my siblings, yes.”

“But..but…” Archie was cut off by Nari bending down to scratch him behind the ears. “Douxie has the Seal. They can’t do anything now. I will keep in touch, yes?”

Douxie nodded dumbly. This was too much. Nari smiled up at him, and with one last hug, darted off to her siblings. Her laughter filled the air as the reserved Skrael hugged her and spun her around. Bellroc placed a hand on her shoulder, and they walked down the road, heads bowed in deep conversation.

This had to be a dream. Even Archie was standing stock still at the display, every muscle perfectly still.

Claire laughed, steering him to her front porch. She sat him down on the porch swing, the Seal held in his hands. He stared unbelievingly at it. She sat next to him, and started the swing, moving it slowly with her feet. If movement helped her think, she thought it would do the same for her teacher.

Claire leaned back, “I had to keep it a secret, I couldn’t risk the order finding Nari, not while they still had the Seal. So…” she shrugged, “I took a page from your playbook and came up with my own plan.”

“Trade Nari for the Seal?” Claire could almost feel his side-eye.

“It was a risk, I admit it, but,” another sigh, and a look off into the distance. “Skrael…I can’t say he _changed_ per se, but that day he was _different._ It’s hard to explain. Now…now it’s like…it’s like he found a part of himself he had been neglecting, and when he discovered that, he showed Bellroc how to reclaim _their_ missing bits.”

“I think I see,” Douxie looked less surprised now, and carefully considered the Seal in his hands. “They are divine beings, change is not something they can do easily. But, they are very old, and once betrayed.” He rested the Seal in his lap, and his head fell onto the back of the swing. “Arthur betrayed so many in the magical community. That is a deep wound that is still healing.” He smiled at Claire. “This is a huge step in the right direction, I think.”

“Speaking of huge steps, when are you moving back to Arcadia? We miss you, and the bookstore has been rebuilt.”

“Soon, I put in my two weeks at my current employment, and my notice at the apartment at any time. So, do I have your help moving back?”

“I have been practicing my portals, though, I think over a few days would work best.”

Douxie nodded, “Agreed.”

She leaned against his shoulder, swinging slowly at watching the cars drive by.

**Author's Note:**

> The paper Claire mentioned exists! “A ubiquitous tire rubber–derived chemical induces acute mortality in coho salmon”. Really rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? On December 3rd, it was published in Science, and I am one of the authors! I didn’t write the thing, authorship on a scientific paper is a lot like the credits of a movie—the first names are the folks who did the most work, the middle names (where mine is, as a tech) are the people who did a lot of the work (think, set builders and the like). So proud of all the hard work the primary authors and co-authors put into the thing. And so glad I did not have to do the fancy chemistry!  
> The setting at the volcano, one Mt St Helens, is based off of my field work there. It was about…80F and oh…dunking one’s head in water that was ice not long ago was so refreshing! I did that…often.  
> The story is “Bridge of the Gods”. One of my favorites, since, like many legends, it has a core of fact. This is due to a giant landslide that did actually dam the Columbia River about 700 years ago. You could walk across the mighty river from Washington to Oregon and not get your feet wet! In Lewis and Clark’s time, you had to portage your canoe around the rapids, which is now covered by the reservoir of the Bonneville Dam.


End file.
